


Drabbles in Couture

by slightlied



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, can stand alone from the fic unless otherwise noted, devil wears prada au, kings in couture, tumblr ask prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:48:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 15,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlied/pseuds/slightlied
Summary: Victor’s not staring. He’snot.He’s a professional, for Christ’s sake. He’s Victor Nikiforov, and he’s got shit to do. Things that are more productive and are of more importance than staring at his new secretary.---series of ask box ficlets written in the 'kings in couture' universein which victor is the editor-in-chief of a fashion magazine, yuuri's his new secretary, and instead of talking about his feelings, victor just sends him on a bunch of errands





	1. victor sees yuuri in the jeans

**Author's Note:**

> part of the justine transfers her tumblr writing to ao3 dump
> 
> these drabbles could totally stand alone if you haven't read [kic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9538889), unless otherwise stated, so i'll note it if you should skip it or not. just keep in mind—history maker couture ("HMC" or "HM Couture") is the name of the fashion magazine that victor is editor-in-chief of, yuuri and mila are his secretaries, and everyone else are editors on the magazine staff. except phichit. he's just yuuri's roommate. 
> 
> not all of these are canon to the story, but some of them are; also noted. 
> 
> OK cool—break! enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: I CANT WAIT FOR VIKTOR TO SEE YUURI IN THE CALVIN KLEIN JEANS
> 
> *canon to the story   
> chapter 1 - yuuri's first day

Victor’s not staring. He’s _not_. He’s a professional, for Christ’s sake. He’s Victor Nikiforov, and he’s got shit to do. Things that are more productive and are of more importance than staring at his new secretary.

New Andre.

Yuuri.

Who’s part angel and part devil, apparently, from the way he had strolled into the office in those sinful jeans. Oblivious. Wide-eyed and shy.

Fucking Calvin Klein is always ruining his life.

“You’re staring,” Chris says, smiling gleefully.

Victor narrows his eyes at him and leverages him with the iciest look he can muster. But Chris knows him too well, has been his creative director for a long time and his best friend for longer.

“You can’t even say anything.” He’s so smug, and Victor hates him.

“You’re fired,” Victor says flatly. “I’m serious this time, Chris.”

Chris is too busy twisting around to look out the glass door of Victor’s office and peer into the secretaries’ area. His smile is going to break his face. “I can’t believe it. You’re an ass guy now.”

“Chris—”

“This is amazing. You’ve never been an ass guy until now, and it’s amazing,” Chris says giddily, gripping the back of the chair.

“Get out. We’re done here.”

Chris pouts, turning back around. “Aw, Victor—”

“Come back when you’re ready to get back to work.”

Could he get a new creative director? Victor seriously considers drawing up a list of potential replacements.


	2. dating in couture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for valentine's day 
> 
> *not canon  
> *future fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally titled 'boyfriends in couture' when it was posted to tumblr, but i had missed an opportunity for an acronym that creates 'dic' so. i am seizing it now.

“I thought I gave you the day off.”

Yuuri looks up from where he’s in the middle of organizing portfolios. “Victor?”

The man in question is staring at him in surprise. He looks fantastic, as usual, though he is uncharacteristically dressed in a simple turtleneck and jeans. No expensive Burberry coat today. “What are you doing here?” Victor asks.

“I was putting together the editorials for the run-through tomorrow.” Yuuri gestures at the folders in front of him. All the editors had submitted their finished pieces for next month’s issue, ready to be reviewed by Victor one last time before they went to print.

“I can see that,” Victor tells him. “But again, I gave you the day off.”

“You gave Mila the day off, too,” Yuuri points out. If the day’s plans she told Yuuri about were coming along nicely, she and Sara should be enjoying themselves at the cafe from that Serendipity movie right about now.

Victor rolls his eyes. “I think I can go one day without my secretaries. You aren’t my babysitters, you know.”

Yuuri purses his lips. The fact that he has Victor’s entire calendar for the rest of the year, along with all the notes and memos he made for the magazine, in his clipboard and phone  _plus_  the added fact that he has a bulletin of phone calls waiting to be rolled over to Victor, begs to differ. He and Mila are basically his thread to the rest of the world.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Victor says with a frown. “I hate repeating myself.”

Yuuri shrugs. “I really have nothing else to do today. I thought I might as well be productive.”

Victor’s frown deepens. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“It is,” Yuuri says agreeably.

“You have nothing to do on Valentine’s Day?”

“Should I have?”

“I…yeah,” Victor says after a moment. He looks a bit exasperated. “Shouldn’t you? You’re…Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s getting confused. “And you’re Victor. What game are we playing?”

Victor looks at him disconcertingly, runs a gloved hand through pale hair. “What about that boy who drops off lunch for you sometimes? Where’s he?”

“Phichit? Phichit, my roommate? He’s…at work?”

“Roommate,” Victor echoes.

“Roommate,” Yuuri confirms.

“Well. What about that girl you were having a coffee with the other day?”

“That girl I was…” Yuuri stops. Wait. “You saw that?”

Victor has the grace to blush. “I just happened to pass by and…see.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows. “She writes for a university magazine. You said you didn’t have time to give her an interview so I tried to answer her questions for you as best I could.”

“Oh,” Victor murmurs. He snaps his fingers. “But what about—”

“Victor, I’m not seeing your point,” Yuuri says, crossing his arms.

The older man sighs. “I just thought…you were with someone,” he says feebly.

Yuuri feels his face grow warm. “Oh.”

Victor looks slightly embarrassed, doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s the most awkward Yuuri’s ever seen him.

“That’s silly,” Yuuri tries to lighten the situation, attempts a small laugh.

Victor whirls his head up to glance at him. “Silly?” He seems kind of offended.

“I mean, where am I gonna have time to meet anyone?” Yuuri scratches at the back of his neck. “I spend all my time here,” he tries to say teasingly.

 _With you,_  he doesn’t add.

“Let’s go, then.”

Yuuri blinks stupidly. “What?”

“Since you spend all your time here, let’s go out, then, and we’ll see how long it takes for you to meet someone,” Victor says, foot tapping impatiently. He looks strangely determined.

Yuuri laughs nervously. “What? Victor, that’s—”

“Don’t say it’s silly,” Victor cuts him off. “I’m serious.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I’m not seeing your point again.”

“You know…” Victor struggles to say. He waves a hand.

Yuuri really, really doesn’t. He tells him as much.

“You’re just the  _type_ , Yuuri,” Victor explains, a little irritably. “You’re the type of person who meets people. And gets together with them.” When Yuuri raises his eyebrows, he adds, “Not in a promiscuous way. I mean it in like a relationship way. Where you spend a lot of time together and take care of each other. And stuff.”

“And stuff,” Yuuri repeats.

“You know,” Victor says again, rolls his eyes. And again, Yuuri really doesn’t. “It confuses me that you aren’t, and that you don’t see that.”

“What’s confusing to me,” Yuuri says slowly, “is the amount of thought you’ve put into this? And why you care so much?”

“Of course I care. I’m your… boss,” Victor says this, though, as if he’s not sure. Then: “Oh, god. Are we dating?”

 _“What?”_  Yuuri squeaks out.

“Oh, my god,” Victor is saying now. He’s started pacing. “We’re dating.  _We’re dating._ ”

Yuuri has stopped breathing. He glances at the calendar on his desktop. It is, in fact, February 14th and not April 1st. He pinches himself. This is, in fact, very real. Painfully real.

“It makes sense,” Victor mutters under his breath. He’s still pacing.

It really, really doesn’t. Yuuri still can’t bring himself to say anything, though. It must be a joke. Must be. Yurio must have said something to Victor, must’ve let something slip because he’s Yurio and he always makes fun of Yuuri’s clothes and his hair and his unrequited crush on his boss and he’s so  _mean_. 

“Yuuri?” Victor’s stopped pacing and is looking at him with a concerned expression.

Yuuri’s not sure what expression he’s wearing on his face, but he figures it must be akin to the feeling he has in his chest. The feeling that he’s going to have some sort of heart attack.

Victor joins him behind the desk, kneeling to peer at his face. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri’s going to die. “Can you—” He stops. He’s not sure what he wants to ask.

 _Can you not be so close to me?_  But he doesn’t want that.

 _Can you tell me if this is a joke?_  He doesn’t want to know the answer to that, either.

 _Can you kiss me?_  He doesn’t know where that one comes from. It most likely has something to do with the famous, attractive editor-in-chief who thinks they’re dating, who’s face is so close to his that Yuuri can taste the minty breath leaving his mouth.

“Can you please explain?” he asks eventually.

Victor pulls away slightly. “Well, it’s obvious.”

“Obvious?”

“We do spend a lot of time together. And we take care of each other. And stuff,” Victor says, repeating his words from earlier and counting off three fingers like they’re going over a checklist.

And. Yuuri can’t really deny those things. They  _do_  spend a lot of time together. He’s always the one accompanying Victor to every Fashion Week, every visit to preview a designer’s collections, every meeting with the publishing board and every follow-up meeting with Yakov. He goes with him to take Makkachin on walks, and when Victor spends ‘family time’ with Yurio, Yuuri is always inadvertently dragged along. 

They  _do_  take care of each other. And for Yuuri, it’s not even because it’s kind of his job to. It’s beyond just the scheduling, the phone calls, the late-night memos. He’s taken Victor to the doctor, keeps his favorite cough drops on hand for when his throat gets scratchy from a long day of meetings. Brings Victor food because he knows he forgets to eat sometimes, shows up at his apartment often with take-away or an armful of groceries. Victor looks out for him, too. Keeps him close when they’re traveling somewhere unfamiliar, checks up on him at least three times before officially saying good night, buys him clothes when the ones he’s brought are inappropriate for the weather. That one time Yuuri fell ill, Victor had insisted Mila clear his schedule. Insisted Yuuri stayed the night with him, brought him soup from the deli downstairs and medicine from the pharmacy down the street. 

And the realization of all of this is too much, really. Makes his breath catch in his throat because there’s the realization, too, that Victor doesn’t even look horribly shocked, just seems more like he’s pleasantly surprised. Like the idea is not so bad. Like it might even be okay.

“Oh my god,” he breathes.

Victor’s watching him. “Yuuri,” he says softly.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri says again. “We’re dating?”

“I mean,” Victor says. He looks like he’s torn between wanting to move closer or getting ready to run away. “If you want to.”

“If  _I_  want to?” Yuuri’s starting to sound like a broken record.

“I realize now that this has come as news to both of us,” Victor says grudgingly. “But, Yuuri, if you’re not comfortable with—”

Yuuri all but grabs a fistful of his shirt and grasps his jaw with his free hand to pull him close. Victor cuts himself off with a noise of surprise before Yuuri catches his lips with his own. His mouth is soft, pliant, the older man relaxing into him after the initial shock and reaching both arms around him to settle against the small of his back. When they break apart for breath, they’re both panting.

“For the record,” Victor says, forehead resting against his. “That was ‘and stuff.’ We were technically missing that. Which is problematic. It’s kind of crucial.”


	3. headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exile-wrath asked: 5 kic headcanons go go go 
> 
> *canon to the story

1.

“did you know there’s a new york pet fashion show?” this question comes up 100% whenever the conditions allow for it. the conditions are: (a) victor is drunk, (b) the topic of makkachin comes up, (b-1) actually, when the topic of dogs in general comes up.

“because there is. there is one,” victor will say, words slurring. “my baby, makkachin. he’s walked the runway for the past three years and he’s a top model for chien coature. and no, i definitely didn’t. didn’t bribe chien coature’s designer into letting him do that.”

and whoever he’s talking to will wear frozen smiles and clutch nervously at their wine glasses. will nod furiously and say, “no, of course not,” because they’re not suicidal, okay? they’re not about to offend the editor-in-chief of hm fucking couture, alright?

 

2.

chris gets fired at least twice a week.

it’ll be for small things (“did you take the balmain sweater that just came into the closet? the one that you knew i wanted to wear to ralph lauren’s brunch later?” victor asks one week.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” chris says into the phone, leaning back in his chair and Absolutely Not wearing said sweater).

or for big things—“i gave him your number,” chris winks at victor, jabbing a thumb back at the waiter who’s walking away from them.

“you did what?” victor nearly spits out his iced tea, incredulous. you don’t just go around giving out victor nikiforov’s number. that’s rule number one of being the privileged few who have his number.

chris assures him, “hey, i saw you flirting with him. it’s fine.”

“not,” victor snaps. “not fine. i don’t know where you even got the idea that—that i was even, that i _would_ even—look, i haven’t flirted in the last ten years, chris.”

 

3.

all the editors working at HMC were handpicked by victor, and there are plenty of gossip conspiracy articles profiling each and every one of them. ‘learn more about the team working under victor nikiforov’ / ‘yes, victor nikiforov sacked the entire editorial team at hm couture to make way for the new generation of haute couture journalism’ / ‘here’s what it’s going to take to work at hm couture’ / ‘want to work at one of journalism’s greatest? look to these industry pros for inspiration.’

the joke’s on everyone, though, because the editors have no idea why and how they got hired either. they like to meet up, book club-style, sometimes at sara’s place but usually at guang hong’s, to pore over these articles and guess at the truth.

 

4.

now that yuuri’s gone, phichit is lilia’s new pet project. kind of. _kind of._ the thing is, is that phichit gives lilia a lot of migraines.

he’s not even really doing anything wrong. he’s just so happy, so on it. always excitable with his ideas, quick to engage with the other editors, prompt in his assignments—and he doesn’t drink a lick of caffeine.

that’s what really bothers her, she thinks. the fact that he gets to work in an industry as hectic as this one and can do it surviving purely off of bottles of cucumber lemon water.

 

5.

victor is constantly changing his coffee order and mila is _through_. it has something to do, she thinks, with his insistence to be as unpredictable as possible all the time.

she knows, though, _knows_ that he secretly loves his coffee made simple: two sugars and a splash of milk.

but no. no, no, mila. today i want it with soy and instead of real cane sugar it has to be that artificial sweetener, you know that one that has a 40% decreased chance of giving you diabetes and heart disease? and tomorrow i want those beans that are authentic from jamaica, and what do you mean i nearly choked and ended up pouring half the drink down the drain the last time? what are you _implying_ , mila? because i loved it. i love fancy coffee. couture runs especially in my caffeine.


	4. bespoke suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: i watched kingsman the other day and thought of your kic fic when eggsy wore the bespoke suit harry commissioned for him in secret because i imagined victor commissioning yuuri's own bespoke three-piece pinstriped suit paired with a *nice* tie and expensive ass Oxford leather shoes (everything fit perfectly because lbr victor probably had yuuri's measurements seared into his brain after the Calvin Klein Jeans). But he sends it ~anonymously~ He has a quiet heart attack when he sees yuuri in it
> 
> *not canon   
> ~future

When Yuuri steps into the reception hall, he doesn’t miss the inquisitive looks and hushed whispers that come his way. He swallows and forces his chin up, eyes searching the room for one person. He finds him, of course, standing as far away as possible at the other end of the hall, talking quietly with Chris and a middle-aged couple decked out in faux fur and pearls. Old money.

Yuuri’s tempted to just stand back and admire from afar as Victor and Chris charm the tailored designer pants off of everyone here, but then he remembers he actually has a job to do. He starts making his way over, fingers itching at his sides because he doesn’t have his clipboard to cling to.

(“You’re not bringing that to the gala,” Mila had told him.

Even when Yuuri bit his lip, begging, “But, Mila, how am I supposed to remember—”

“You are not,” she repeated firmly, “bringing that to the gala. It’s already shit enough that I’m not able to go because of this disaster of a cold.” She sniffs. “I was going to be wearing Valentino, for crying out loud.”)

Chris notices him approaching, turns and gives him a look of appraisal. “Yuuri,” he admonishes. “You said you didn’t have anything to wear.”

Victor smiles politely at the couple, dismisses them. Then turns to look at Yuuri, too, and oh. “We’re matching,” Victor says with a raised eyebrow. His mouth twitches.

They are matching. They’re both sporting deep grey and oxford blue, except Yuuri’s in a bespoke three-piece with pinstripes and Victor’s in a simple, slim fit suit.

“I _didn’t_ have anything to wear,” Yuuri says, swallowing. He pokes at his face subconsciously, then remembers he’s not wearing glasses. He wants to run a hand through his hair, too—he needs to do something with them, anything—but Sara had been very clear that if he ruined the slick-backed style that she’d pulled it in that she would never do anything for him again, his job be damned. “This just.. appeared? On my doorstep. This afternoon.”

“Fancy that,” Chris says, glancing at Victor.

Victor takes a slow sip from the glass of champagne in his hands. “Fancy that,” he agrees, looking back at Chris. They exchange a silent conversation. Then, Victor’s handing Chris the glass. He says suddenly, “Let’s dance, Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinks, checks his watch. “What? The program’s about to start. Don’t you need to—”

Victor stretches out a hand impatiently. “Let’s dance.”

Yuuri inhales. Chris has disappeared. More people are making their way off the floor, too, finding their seats. There’s not even proper dancing music playing, he realizes. But Victor’s staring at him, gorgeous and waiting and they’re matching, and Yuuri exhales, finally.

“Okay.”


	5. and i'm victor nikiforov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: imagine kic victor and yuuri on a trip for their first anniversary. they'd go somewhere extravagant (bc they've been together for a year; yuuri knows better than to put up a fight, and he secretly adores the entire thing)
> 
> *canon to the story  
> *future fic

“Vitya, we have a dinner to go to,” Yuuri says.

Victor only hums in response, pulls Yuuri closer to him and wraps Yuuri’s legs around his waist. The movement creates ripples in the water, and Yuuri would feel embarrassed and self-conscious except for the fact that this is a private indoor swimming pool. For once, he’s grateful about Victor’s expensive, extravagant whims.

The pool sits on the 40th floor of the Burj Al-Arab, and over Victor’s shoulder, Yuuri watches as the sun sets over the United Arab Emirates. The streetlights flicker on and Dubai shines impossibly brighter, every bit as polished and sparkling as its gold-clad, couture-clothed citizens. It’s surreal, how much Victor keeps surprising him with these seemingly otherworldly places. He had thought Paris was a fantasy. Milan was a fairytale. Singapore was simply not real. 

But _this_. Yuuri thinks he’ll never get used to this. There are kiosks for easy gold in the streets. Seeing helicopters carry Lamborghinis and Aston Martins through the air to deliver to their owners are a frequent occurrence. This morning, Yuuri even spied a pair of lion cubs reclining on the backseat of a Maserati, heads hanging easily out the window and tongues lolling. (”People have them as pets,” Victor had explained.) 

Rich people are absurd, Yuuri’s decided.

“A dinner, Victor. We’re going to be late,” Yuuri tries to push. Tries to ignore the sensation of Victor’s lips on his neck, Victor’s hands kneading his ass under the water. 

Victor sighs. “We’re supposed to be on vacation,” he complains, mouth disconnecting from Yuuri’s skin with a smacking sound. 

“You’re the one who accepted a sit-down with the prince of Dubai,” Yuuri points out. He pushes silver hair out of Victor’s face with a wet hand, gives a small smile as the water makes the strands stick in all directions. 

Victor waves a hand. “We’ll just meet up with him next time,” he says breezily. He moves to duck forward and kiss Yuuri on the lips, but Yuuri palms his chest, pushes him back slightly. 

“Victor,” yuuri says, incredulous. “He’s the _prince of Dubai._  This is so last-minute, you can’t just—”

“And I’m Victor Nikiforov.” Victor raises an eyebrow at him. 

And. 

And, yeah, okay. He’s got a point.

“You’re the most absurd of all,” Yuuri tells his fiancé. He drops his hand, allows Victor to recapture his lips.

Moments later, the prince’s butler receives a nearly indiscernible text.

**_sicnelry sorry, mr nikioforv is unabl toma ke it tonght. -yk_ **


	6. caught in the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> osnapitzhanaa asked: Okay but imagine in KIC: They are don't a run through but they sent Yuuri to get something and it started raining so re rushes in late with his Calvin Kleins and soaled so he pushes his hair back into eros and is trying to dry his glasses and everyone just goes "Oh No, He's HOT" I'm obsessed with KIC now its all I think about
> 
> *not canon  
> ~yuuri settling in

Yuuri busts through the door, arms full of drinking trays. “Sorry, sorry, I’m late. Sorry. It’s raining so everyone was holed up in the café and—you know, I’m sorry. My fault. Sorry.” 

He doesn’t cringe over how redundant he’s being; he can never apologize enough for falling behind on HM Couture Standard Time. He doesn’t even want to look at Victor and the squinty-eyed, purse-lipped expression he must be wearing right now. 

Chris tuts, coming forward to help him set the coffee cups down and distribute them around the room. “Yuuri, you’re soaking wet.” 

Yuuri blinks, quickly glances down at himself as he hands JJ the final drink. He’d been so focused on getting to the run-through on time that he hadn’t noticed his state of dress. He runs a hand through his hair, and the water keeps it pushed back. “Oh, god. Sorry, I’m getting–the floors are all wet and I’ll ruin the chairs, I’ll… I’ll step out?” 

He moves to meet Victor’s eyes, finally, but the man’s in the middle of removing his coat. He sets it down neatly on Yuuri’s chair, gestures to it. “Take a seat.”

There’s a collective gasp around the room. 

“That’s cashmere,” Georgi says incredulously. “That’s cashmere and _Burberry_ , you can’t—”

Yuuri’s nodding in agreement. “Victor, he’s right, I can’t—” 

Victor raises a hand. Gestures again at the seat. 

And that’s that. 

Georgi looks incredibly pained as Yuuri makes his way over to his chair. He sits down carefully, tries to ignore the horrible squelching sound that comes from wet denim meeting fine wool. He looks up, apology ready on his lips, but instead he jerks forward, sneezing violently into his elbow. 

A warm hand touches his arm. “Are you okay?” 

Yuuri wants to nod, wants to just grab his clipboard from his bag and take his notes because he’s delayed this meeting enough, but he’s sneezing again. There are voices speaking, he thinks, but he can hardly make out the words through the sneezes; tears are blurring his eyes. 

It’s over moments later, but his chest is heaving. “Sorry,” he says again, eyes screwed shut. When he opens them, the room is empty and Victor has another coat gathered in his arms. “What…?” 

The coat wraps around Yuuri’s shoulders, and it smells like him. Sweet and warm and expensive and Victor. 

“Run-through’s pushed to tomorrow,” Victor says simply. He’s got a cup of hot water on the table in front of him and he tears the corner of a silvery packet, pours its powdery contents into the cup and stirs it. 

“What? But the print deadline’s on—"

“Let’s just take care of you, okay?” Victor pushes the cup toward him. “Drink.” And Yuuri thinks he imagines it, but Victor also mutters under his breath, “So ridiculous, puts himself through the rain like that…”


	7. take them off for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: I love KiC but I have the most important question , will they fuck on viktors desk? Likely causes of this include The Jeans™???
> 
> *not canon  
> *rated M for mature !!!

“I hate those jeans,” Victor groans out, pulling Yuuri flush against him.

“You love them,” Yuuri breathes, tilting his neck to the side. He rests a shaky hand on the desk behind them.

“Nope.” Victor kisses down the exposed skin. “Hate them.” He bites a little, teasing. “Hate them a lot.”

Yuuri drags Victor’s hands down his sides, leads them to the button of his pants. “Take them off, then,” he whispers, hot breath washing over them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and rated M for super mini 
> 
> the ficlet-iest of ficlets


	8. rough night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: hey justine, i was just thinking and an idea popped into my mind. so like kic vic never gets nervous. never. but what if there's like something really important, some sort of event (idk the fashion world really well but) and yuuri helps him calm down. gives him tips because we all know katsuki yuuri is a pro when it comes to handling anxiety. and victors just like holy fuck can he get any better??? No
> 
> *not canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i continue to project kic victor off of anna wintour by making him committee head of the met gala—which _is_ canon to kic

“Hello?” Yuuri yawns, rubbing at his eyes. 

_“Yuuri?”_

Instantly, Yuuri’s awake, shooting up on his bed and pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Victor?” He glances at the digital clock on his beside table. “It’s—"

“It’s 3am, I know,” Victor says quickly. He sounds… off. Stressed and panicked. “It’s 3am and the Met Gala’s in roughly 16 hours.” 

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes. “Oh, _Victor_. Are you still there? You said you were heading home.” 

Victor continues, though, as if Yuuri hadn’t spoken at all. “It’s 3am and half the exhibits are _roughly_ completed.” His voice sounds wild and nearly crazed, rambling for the sake of rambling, which Victor hates doing. Yuuri clutches tightly at his blanket and listens. “And the roses making up the main piece in the front hall are _roughly_ completed, and the board is telling me that it’s all _roughly_ coming along and…” 

Victor pauses and lets out a choked breath. He doesn’t seem to notice that on the other end, Yuuri is still holding his in. 

“And I-I don’t know why I’m calling you. I just needed…” Victor trails off. “I just needed you,” he confesses. 

Yuuri’s heart skips a beat, not at his words but at how broken they sound. “Can you find a quiet place? Away from all the people still setting up the wing? Don’t go in a supply room,” he adds. “A separate exhibit, so you have room to pace, yeah? So you can walk it off like you do after run-throughs.” 

He can hear footsteps on the other line, the sound of leather oxfords briskly hitting the marble floor of the Metropolitan. Victor coughs. “Yuuri, I’m—"

“I know,” Yuuri says softly. Victor deserves to be spared tonight. 

A pause. “Will you…?” 

“I’m already on the way.”


	9. rough day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: today is the met gala! if ya feelin peachy and up to it, would you write a wee lil drabble about our friends from hmc there?
> 
> also anonymous said: can we get a met gala kic drabble in honor of tonight's festivities? :D
> 
> *not canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a continuation of [rough night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11581218/chapters/26026431)
> 
> don’t ask what the gala theme is it’s some weird combination of 2015′s through the looking glass and this year’s art of the in-between lolol. and yes, i’m making kubo a designer that gets her own met gala solo show in honor of kawakubo bc their names sound alike O K

**12 hours to open**

The Victor from four hours ago is gone, neatly tucked away like one of his silk ties or a pair of ankle socks. Folded and hidden into one of the several drawers of Victor Nikiforov’s wardrobe of a personality. Yuuri wonders if he’s glimpsed into a good amount of those drawers, but considering Victor’s _actual_ wardrobe drawers have their own MUJI brand compartments inside of them, it is entirely likely that he’s missing even smaller facets of Victor; his drawers have drawers, his secrets have secrets. 

Yuuri watches him now as he scrutinizes each display of the exhibit, murmuring with the curator and periodically adjusting the garments on the mannequins. Victor looks up briefly and gives a small smile—in the way that Victor only ever gives smiles, small and subtle but brilliant, still, and Yuuri mentally adds that to his collection of memories of Victor to lose sleep over. 

Yuuri smiles back (hesitant and timid and awkward, he’s sure). 

 

**4 hours to open**

“Oh my god, what are you wearing?” Georgi asks in horror. 

Yuuri looks down at his outfit, still in the sweats he’d slipped into in his rush to get to the Met at half past three in the morning. Around them, preparations for the gala are in full-swing, museum officials and staff bustling around the venue as the ticking clock winds down. 

“Um—” 

"I’ve got it.” Victor’s voice, soft but clear, calls from Yuuri’s left and when Yuuri turns he stops breathing. Victor’s changed, and he’s still in a suit, of course, but it’s stunning. Custom-made by Kubo herself, the designer being celebrated for that evening. Half of the suit is lined with icy blue crystals, tiny sparkling things that glint where the sunlight catches on them. The other half is a more muted blue, calm but compelling and homey. It divides in a diagonal across Victor’s front, and the stark contrast of the suit’s design is jarring, but—so’s it’s owner. 

Yuuri doesn’t notice the garment bag hanging over Victor’s arm until he steps in front of him. “I don’t know if you already had something picked out,” Victor tells him. Yuuri remembers to breathe, can’t decide whether to look up into Victor’s eyes or to the matching blue of the bright part of his suit. “Sorry for having dragged you here, though, you’ve been here all morning and all night—” 

"It’s okay,” Yuuri says quickly. 

Victor pauses, gives his small smile. He holds out his arm, pushes the garment bag over to Yuuri. “How about you go change, then?” His voice lowers. “Before Georgi gets an aneurysm. And before Michele arrives,” he adds, teasing. 

Yuuri shudders. “Michele.” He takes it from Victor gratefully. “Thank you.” 

"Of course.”

 

**2 hours to open**

"Where the fuck are you?” Mila hisses into her phone. “They’re rolling out the carpet.” 

Whatever JJ says on the other end, it only mollifies Mila slightly. She sighs as staff members around her iron down the red carpet, making it smooth and impeccable for the star-studded guests who would arrive later in the evening. 

Sara rubs Mila’s shoulder soothingly as she clicks off. “It’s gonna be okay. Look, Otabek’s running the livetweets right now,” she says. 

Mila rolls her eyes. “Please tell me that—” 

"Leo and Guang are helping,” Sara says quickly. 

"Thank god.”

 

**Open - Gala Stage**

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Victor says grandly behind the podium on stage. He flashes a wide smile as the crowd applauds, but it doesn’t sit right with Yuuri, not really. He watches from off the side of the stage, standing with Mila, who’s busy typing away on her phone. 

"Georgi says Kubo’s not ready yet,” she stage-whispers, looking at Yuuri with wide eyes.

"She’s got some, I don’t know, there’s some drama with the—” 

"What?” He glances at his watch. “But the schedule—” 

"Fuck the schedule, we need to—” 

"Okay.” 

"Okay? Yuuri, we need to—Yuuri, wait, what are you—” 

Victor’s voice booms from the speakers around them. “And now, may I present our—uh… Yuuri Katsuki?” 

 

**Two hours after close**

Yuuri finds Victor by one of the displays, looking thoughtfully at the satin train of a Renaissance-themed dress. He’s shed his suit jacket, loosened the tie around his neck. He still looks flawless. 

"I hope that was okay,” Yuuri says quietly. 

Victor doesn’t startle, as if he’d expected Yuuri to come to him all along. He’s quiet for a bit, before turning to face him. He speaks, breathless, even though he hasn’t moved from his spot since he’d been there after the last of the guests had left. 

"That was amazing,” he tells Yuuri meaningfully. 

It’s too much. Yuuri tears his eyes away. “Roughly amazing,” he says jokingly. Deflects. 

There’s the small smile again. “Roughly amazing,” Victor agrees. He gazes back at the mannequin on display, and that’s where Mila finds them later, when she tells them the car’s waiting.


	10. victor's big night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hi, this is 5x anon and I didn't really watch out for typos? Hahaha, too immersed. Sorry. But are they going shopping??! OH MY GOODNESS. Can you imagine Viktor asking Yuuri to try on all those butt hugging jeans but also telling him he can only wear those on specific days (because Viktor doesn't like sharing). Like when it's just them like going through stuff together or like going to a meeting the entire day. I don't know. Viktor just wants Yuuri for himself, okay. Okay. Good.
> 
> *not canon at all. completely crack.

“You can’t wear that to the benefit,” Victor tells Yuuri with a frown when he steps out of the fitting room. 

Yuuri looks down at his suit. “You were the one who picked this out for me. You said I’d looked good.”

“And you do look good,” Victor agrees. He squints his eyes and rubs a finger on his chin. “Almost too good, though. Take it off immediately.” 

Yuuri blushes, sneaks a glance at the saleslady sorting hangers nearby. “Victor, we’re in public.” 

Victor’s frown deepens. “I’m not flirting with you, Yuuri, I’m serious. You can’t outshine me on my big night.” 

“Oh.”


	11. dad handwriting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: yes but can you confirm that kic Victor has Dad Handwriting (TM)??? I like that headcannon. Like when he writes where anyone will see it it's elegant and nice because he's trying, but birthday cards and shit are all dad script
> 
> *not canon

“It was on the note,” Victor protests. “Didn’t you see the note I left on your pillow?” 

Yuuri casts his mind back, scrunching his nose. “You left that note? I thought that was Phichit.”

Victor pales. Oh no, his secret. His well-guarded secret. It was to come out today. He sucks in a breath. “Yeah, Yuuri. That horrible Dad Handwriting™? That was me.” 

At seeing his shoulders tremble, Yuuri steps forward and touches his arm. “Victor–” 

“That was all me,” Victor says, tears brimming his eyes. It was a good thing he had decided to wear YSL’s waterproof Everlong Mascara that day.


	12. hm... couture?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jynxblock asked: I like when you call it hmcouture because I always read it like someone's judgementally saying "Hm" couture
> 
> *u know what... heck it... its heckin canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's friggin art!!! of yuuri in the yeezy and adidas im dyin
> 
> * [emvisc](https://emvisc.tumblr.com/post/158750924827/ladies-and-gentlemen-i-ashamedly-present-to-you)  
> 
> * [miribadjackson](http://miribadjackson.tumblr.com/post/158785766880/this-is-for-forovnix-because-i-know-they-wanted)

Georgi walks in with sunglasses that are too heavily-decorated with jewels to properly function as sunglasses.

“Hm… couture?” Michele asks, turning to Sara.

She considers it for a moment.  
“Couture,” she decides.

 

 

JJ wears a tuxedo jacket heavily monogrammed wth his initials.

Emil starts, “Hm… cout—”

“No,” the entire team choruses.

 

  
Yuuri wears a cropped Yeezy sweater and tight Adidas soccer pants.

“Hm… not _really_ couture, but…” They all look at each other and shrug.

“Still gorgeous,” someone says and they all nod in agreement and add, “Yep.”

"Mhm."

"Kinda in love with him."

"Same, yeah."

"Uh huh."


	13. still alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: "What is it this week?" Christophe asks, and he purposefully eyes Victor's boner. // Victor adjusts his suit pants and glares at him. "He's wearing the Jeans(tm) again." // "He is?" Christophe asks, and glances around. "I'm surprised you're still alive."
> 
> *not canon  
> *future fic  
> *rated teen

When Victor arrives at his apartment later that night, he’s just managed to toe off his Salvatore Ferragamo oxfords when a hand tugs his tie and yanks him forward, pushes him against the wall.

“Careful, that’s Italian silk,” Victor chides. He clicks his tongue but angles his face to the side, lets Yuuri press kisses to his neck.

“Mm. Sorry,” Yuuri murmurs, not sounding sorry at all. “Couldn’t help myself.” He licks a stripe up to Victor’s jaw, then pulls away and looks up at him. “You tortured me all day,” he says accusingly, thumbing at the lapel of Victor’s sports jacket.

Victor shoots him a look of disbelief. Wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and slips a hand into one of his back pockets, applying just the faintest amount of pressure to make Yuuri squirm. “Me torture you? You know what those jeans do to me, gorgeous.”

Yuuri gives a small smile at that, a light blush spreading over his face that Victor finds irresistible. He ducks down and kisses him, licks into his mouth until Yuuri’s gasping and tugging again at his clothes, and Victor can’t even bring himself to care about the wrinkle damage that’ll leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> victor calling yuuri 'gorgeous' as a term of endearment... does things... to me...


	14. the sheer shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> scarlet99 asked: KiC Viktor gets really clumsy around Yuuri but the worst had to be when the Sheer Shirt and The Jeans combo ~appears~... Viktor.exe stopped working. Viktor accidentally spills water all over Yuuri. It's simultaneously the worst and best thing that has ever happened to him. Bonus: Oh no! Yuuri had to take his shirt off so it can dry properly! *Slicks hair back* Eros mode activated. RIP Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heckin art!!! yuuri in the sheer shirt... feast ur eyes...
> 
> * [ rayjinar](http://rayjinar.tumblr.com/post/158878518559/yuuri-the-secretary-in-the-jeans-sheer-sweater)  
> 
> * [dyeingdoll](https://dyeingdoll.tumblr.com/post/160913495407/whoops-my-hand-slipped-forovnix-and-guess-what)

Yuuri stares in horror as the water soaks his shirt and makes the translucent fabric stick to his skin. 

“Oh my god,” Victor says, eyes widening. He sets his now-empty glass down on his table. “Yuuri, I’m so sor—"

“It’s okay,” Yuuri answers quickly. He really doesn’t want to hear that Victor Nikiforov’s immediate reaction upon being exposed to his body is an _apology_. “I’ll just—”

“Let me—” 

“I, um—” 

“Yuuri,” Victor says, touching his arm. They’re both breathless, for some reason; they’re both freaking out. Even though it’s water. 

It’s _water_. Water tends to dry, Yuuri recognizes. 

Still. 

“Let’s take you to the closet, yeah?” Victor says, and he slips a hand through the crook of Yuuri’s elbow and tugs him to the hallway. 

When they arrive at HMC’s massive closet, the Accessories staff there pretend to avert their eyes as Victor leads Yuuri to a rack of shirts. He lets go of Yuuri’s arm to rifle through the hangers, muttering to himself. He picks one, finally, and turns to Yuuri. “Here, I think this will—” He stops, jaw slackening. “You’re shirtless.” 

Yuuri feels his cheeks heat up. “I figured I’d hang up my shirt and let it, uh.” He coughs and waves the hanger in his hand. “Let it dry, right?” 

“You’re…” Victor blinks and shakes his head, never finishes his sentence.

 

\--

**  
[HMCOUTURE SLACK CHANNEL: #interns_random]**

**allisonm** : you guys. victor and yuuri. the closet. it’s happening.  
**jennaj** : this is not a drill people it is ~happening~  
**aaronp** : omfg what?? they kissed?? @alext you owe me $5  
**jennaj** : no no no they’re just flirting super obviously  
**aaronp** : …oh  
**aaronp** : they do that all the time wtf come back when something substantial is happening  
**alext** : ha! see? i still say it’s not going to happen at least for another 3 months  
**allisonm** : RIP ice king victor and little duckling yuuri


	15. talk dirty to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: (From a story someone I follow posted) I feel like there'd be a day in the office where Yuuri was feeling Damn Fine & Confident, so he kept saying really sweet (or dirty?) things in Japanese to Viktor. When Yuuri hands him some reports, he uses a pretty heavy term of endearment but plays it off. Viktor, after asking for a translation, gets a reply of "If you translate it, I bet you'll turn a pretty shade of red" in which he then tries to play off (1/2)
> 
> Victor's bitch ass gets home that evening and repeats it to google translate in broken Japanese, and he was brighter than that damn Givenchy lipstick (2/2)
> 
> *not canon

Victor is 90% sure that Yuuri is telling him absolute filth. 

Maybe it’s the way his mouth pouts a bit more tightly, or the way his eyes darken when they meet with his own, or the way that his hips have a bit more swing to them when they walk into his office to hand him a memo — but by the fourth time Yuuri murmurs Japanese under his breath that day, Victor’s had enough.

“What was that?” he asks. Yuuri’s eyebrows jump, as if not expecting to be called out about it, and he wills his face not to blush. You’re Victor Nikiforov, he tells himself fiercely. You haven’t blushed since middle school. 

He’s not sure if it’s working, but Yuuri’s leaning over, then, so that his breath fans over Victor’s face when he says, “あなたはあなたの歯に食べ物を持っています。”

And. 

That’s a lot of words that Victor doesn’t understand. 

But Yuuri offers no translation; just winks and chuckles a bit, and it’s not fair that he can do that and look _adorable_ after looking like some sex vixen all day, but it’s _Yuuri_ and Yuuri confuses him all the damn time. 

When he’s alone, he shakily opens a tab to Google Translate. The Japanese words have been seared into his memory, and he recites them awkwardly. Licks his lips while he waits for the translation to process. If Yuuri’s flirting with him, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

Victor pauses. Because if Yuuri is flirting with him, god. He knows exactly what he’ll do. He’ll go over to him in the morning and finally, finally —

The website pings. Translation complete: 

_You have food in your teeth._


	16. yes they bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: if kictor is mean to yuuri i'm gonna sue just letting you know in advance omfg
> 
> *not canon  
> *future fic

“Why is everyone afraid of you?” Yuuri wants to know, tracing circles over Victor’s bare skin. 

Victor startles at his question. He had been wondering that himself for a long time. “I… I don’t know,” Victor says feebly. 

Yuuri hums. Pokes at Victor’s stomach. It’s all hard muscle and sharp lines, but there’s one part. One little squishy part, just there, at his side. Yuuri’s special, favorite Victor Nikiforov body part. 

“You’re one big marshmallow, really,” he says, staring at the way Victor’s skin gleams in the moonlight, bright and smooth. 

Victor frowns. “I’m not sure about that.” He likes being feared, in a strange way. It made being stubborn about things a lot easier. 

Yuuri pokes the squish again. “Big.” _Poke_. “Marsh.” _Poke_. “Mallow.” _Poke poke poke._

“Heyyy.” Victor grabs his wrist. “Enough of that.”

Yuuri grins. “Or what?”

"Or… or I’ll,” Victor searches for the right words. Some quality, mean, roast-level words. “I’ll fire you. Real hard,” he adds lamely. 

Yuuri’s grin widens, and he pushes a leg between Victor’s. “Or you could do something else _real hard…”_


	17. personal time off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said in the spur of the moment
> 
> *future fic  
> *not canon

Yuuri hums to himself, flipping pancakes while Victor sits at the kitchen island. Between the two of them, they’re wearing one (1) outfit; Yuuri in silk Ralph Lauren pajama bottoms and Victor wearing the matching top. It’s slightly oversized on him, the hem of it just brushing the top of his thighs, and Yuuri is absolutely not staring. Nope. He busies himself with the pancakes, hums even more aggressively—or he would, if Victor weren’t in an important phone call. 

“Yeah, that would look lovely,” Victor comments into the mic piece of his earphones. He scrolls through his iPad, taps to open a new file. “Mmm, no. Givenchy, really?” 

Yuuri sets a plate in front of him and Victor looks up, briefly, to give him a smile. 

“No, we have to make this decision now,” Victor says, blue eyes twinkling. A voice says something on the other line, and an irritable expression passes through Victor’s face. “Because once I hang up, I’m taking PTO for the rest of the weekend… Yes, Mark. Actual personal time off. Actually actually.” 

It’s clearly a foreign concept to everyone, still, that Victor Nikiforov would take time off of work. A wicked voice nags at Yuuri at that, buried guilt tugging at the back of his mind. He tears off a piece of pancake, stuffs it in his mouth and imagines that he’s shoving the bad feeling away. 

Victor rolls his eyes at whatever’s been said to him. “Give me a break… No, yes. Of course, I’m taking this seriously… Well, you’re the one who wanted to re-shoot the—… Because I want to take out my boyfriend and have a good time, you idiot,” he snaps. 

Yuuri chokes as he sips at his mug of coffee. Victor rattles off a few memos before curtly hanging up. 

“Victor, oh my god,” Yuuri says, dabbing at his bare chest with a napkin. He winces at the warm, sticky liquid that had spilled on him. 

Victor’s unperturbed, though. He sets his iPad aside, picks up a fork. “Remind me why I can’t fire Mark again?”

Yuuri sighs fondly. “Yakov said you can’t fire another member of the board within six months of the last one.”


	18. shades of brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said too quietly
> 
> *canon to the story

Victor stares intently at Yuuri’s face as he goes over the day’s agenda. He sighs at the way Yuuri’s eyelashes flutter behind his glasses, at his soft mouth forming words that are barely processing through Victor’s mind. Outside the window, New York City zips by as the town car makes its way to the Plaza Hotel.

“12:45pm’s your speech—I’ve got your cue cards here, don’t worry—and then afterwards you can sit down and finish the luncheon or…” Yuuri is saying, reading off of his clipboard. Victor wishes he’d look up, suddenly overcome by the urge to glimpse at his warm brown eyes.

“Or we play hooky, and I take you out somewhere nice,” Victor murmurs.

“…Last night Yakov sent—sorry, what?” Yuuri startles, dropping his pen and, _there we go_. Yuuri glances up at Victor— _so warm, god, so brown… what shade of brown even???_ Victor can never decide _—_ and reaches up a hand to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Victor smiles, satisfied. “I said I think the time I’m there for my speech will suffice,” he says, scratching idly at his chin for effect. “We’ve got lots of work to do for the Lancôme spread. Can you put down an appointment with…”

And just like that, Yuuri quickly scoops up his pen to take notes. Victor would mourn the ending of A Moment, but nevermind. He’s right, anyway.

Work to do. A magazine to run.

Love—Yuuri—can wait, can’t it?


	19. people make mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: things you said while I cried in your arms in kic verse please?
> 
> *not canon, crack-y

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omgogm [dyeingdoll made art](https://dyeingdoll.tumblr.com/post/160625630492/loosely-based-on-this-forovnix-your-au-is-just) of victor and chris crying on yuuri

“Victor, it’s—”

“Don’t you _dare_ say it’s fine.”

Yuuri sighs, stroking Victor’s hair as the man continues to cry in his arms. He needs him to calm down soon; it’s only a matter of time before someone walks by and spots them folded together in one of the plush armchairs in Yuuri and Mila’s office area. The editor-in-chief sobbing into his secretary’s chest—Yuuri shudders at the rounds of gossip that would provoke. The chat channels had just started to die down, too. 

“People make mistakes,” Yuuri says gently. 

Victor sniffles. “A mistake is pairing a thick belt with an A-line skirt. A mistake is wearing tweed and wool _and flannel._ Wearing zebra print in the middle of summer? That’s a mistake. But this,” he says tearfully, pointing an angry finger at the catalog that’s now been thrown on the floor. “This is a tragedy. Disrespectful. Assaulting.”

“I want to sue,” Victor continues. He gives Yuuri a pleading look. “Can’t I sue?” 

“You can’t sue Balenciaga for having a bad design, Victor,” Yuuri reminds him. 

“A bad design,” Victor repeats, wiping at the corner of his eyes. It’s not fair, Yuuri thinks absently. Even when he’s distraught, he’s so pretty like this. “That’s not a bad design. It’s not even a design at all. It’s a fucking IKEA bag—why are you looking at me like that? Shit, did I ruin my mascara?” 

Yuuri startles, swallowing because his throat had gone dry. “No, no. Er. You’re good.” 

Victor sighs forlornly, just as Chris walks in. The creative director looks distressed. “V-Victor, did you see the—”

“Yes, can you _believe_ —”

And that’s how, later, Mila finds Yuuri’s arms full of both men sobbing into his neck, looking both anxious and apologetic about the situation. She’s tempted to join them because she’s seen it too, eyes still burning from the after-effects of it, but there’s work to do and deadlines to meet. 

“Honestly, Yuuri,” she huffs, pulling all three of the men to their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on this [actual catastrophe](http://www.cnn.com/2017/04/19/style/balenciaga-ikea-bag-trnd/)


	20. i'll be right there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: KIC verse, 59?? I love your writing btw
> 
> or, things you said after you fell in love
> 
> *not canon

Yuuri hasn’t wanted to admit it for awhile, but perhaps finding himself doodling “YK+VN” with little hearts in his notes is a sign. An _embarrassing_ sign—he squiggles over it in an attempt to cover it up—but a sign nonetheless. It’s inevitable, perhaps, that in between all the late-night memos, town car rides, and note sessions, that Yuuri would fall for Victor. 

Actually, no, Yuuri decides, glancing at Mila. She holds the same job as him, after all. She doesn’t go around doodling little hearts and VN in her notes (as far as he knows). Victor doesn’t go around toting Mila alongside him, either. Not in the way he does with Yuuri. 

Yuuri quickly pushes the thought away. No, that’s just unrealistic speculation. It means nothing, Victor bringing him out to places. It’s because Mila’s off running more important errands, maybe, or because Yuuri takes better notes. Or something. 

Right on cue, Yuuri’s phone rings. 

“Yuuri, hi,” Victor’s voice greets, deep and smooth and it’s kind of delicious, the way it spills into Yuuri’s ear. His grip on his pen tightens, and he makes extra squiggles over the hearts, covering them with dark ink until the “VN” is unrecognizable. “Could you come over and bring the…” 

Yuuri hums along as he gives instructions.

“Got all that?”

Yuuri nods automatically, although Victor’s in his apartment on the other side of Manhattan and can’t see him. 

“I’ll be right there, Victor.” 

He quickly clicks off.


	21. the one with chihoko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> saltprincevictor said: KIC VERSION OF #CHIHOKOGATE
> 
> *as much as i would love for this to be canon, this is completely crack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe i have to put this disclaimer but after very worrying tags from people who reblogged the post it seems that this is necessary: 
> 
> they are on the observation deck. victor does not fall down 102 floors. yuuri would not catch victor after a fall like that. thank u

Victor is naked. On top of the Empire State Building.

“Victor,” Yuuri says, horrified. “Get down from there!”

“Is this better than Chihoko, Yuuri?” Victor demands, twisting every which way to try and get to the construction platform that leads to the very tippy top. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by how terribly naked he is, despite it being socially unacceptable and also being fifty degrees outside, with winds reaching twenty miles per hour.

Or if he is, he simply doesn’t care. He’s long dismissed the security guards calling out to him, too.

“Who’s Chihoko?” Yuuri asks, exasperated. “Never mind, come on. Victor. You have a meeting with—”

“Oh, and I bet Chihoko was never late for meetings when you booked them for her, too, yeah? Just like Chihoko probably took you here to the—oh, fuck!”

“Victor!”

Yuuri watches as Victor slips on a metal covering, falls. It’s as if it’s happening in slow motion. Yuuri can only watch in horror, but at the last second, he wills his feet to move and suddenly he’s bolting forward, arms outstretched.

“Oof.“ Victor lands in Yuuri’s arms. He huffs and ducks his head into Yuuri’s neck, speaking into it. Yuuri shudders, from the cold or from the way Victor’s lips brush against his skin or from the way Victor’s _everything_ brushes against his arms—Yuuri doesn’t know.

“I bet you caught Chihoko the same wa—”

“ _Victor_.”


	22. the... other one??? with chihoko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> osnapitzhanaa said: Instead of KiC Yuri writing personal things in his notes maybe what Viktor thought was Chihoko was really Yuris attempt at spelling a designer brand name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in ref to [this](https://forovnix.tumblr.com/post/160310004246/imagine-in-kic-verse-victor-sees-messy-handwriting)

victor’s staring at his notes and reading, _**15:00 call chihoko**_ — ** _belle_** , thinking that yuuri wants to call a girl named chihoko who is apparently belle (beautiful)

when really:

“um. victor,” yuuri says, looking embarrassed.

which is good, victor thinks. he should be embarrassed, going around and flirting with people and picking up dates when he’s on the clock. victor fixes him with what he hopes is a firm, admonishing stare.

yuuri’s cheeks pinken further, and the world is unfair.

“i’m supposed to call _christian lacroix_ ,” yuuri fumbles over the pronunciation, licking his lips before continuing, “you know, about his hotel, the bellechasse? that venue you wanted me to set up?”

oh.

**_oh._ **


	23. let's put some miles on it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: Okay but is the pink cadillac also in KiC and would they have dates in it?? Because I'm imagining super serious Viktor suddenly pulling up in the car and looking so much more childish and relaxed xDD
> 
> *not canon  
> *rated explicit

Yuuri groans as Victor picks up his hips only to pull them back down again. Beneath him, Victor smirks in between panting breaths, the front of his dress shirt messily pulled up apart to reveal sweat-slick skin covered in marks and bruises. 

“Still think… ah… still think I can’t be… serious in this car?” Victor asks. His hips snap up again, and Yuuri shudders, nails digging into the leather behind Victor’s neck. 

Still, he bites back a moan and touches his forehead to Victor’s, their breaths mixing hot and heavy in the small space between them. “The only t-thing serious… about you and—fuck…” Yuuri gasps as Victor strikes that spot deep inside of him, “…about you and this car… is that I s- _seriously_ need… need to come… come on Vitya, please, please…”

“ _Shit_ ,” Victor hisses, and leans up to cover Yuuri’s mouth with his, tongue flicking against his moans.


	24. for fuck's sake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: WHAT DID SAB DOOO O
> 
> *not canon  
> *rated mature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those who haven't read kic: sabrina is a salesgirl for hermès and yuuri was given strict instructions not to work with her, because she's incompetent, or something

“But what did she do exactly?” Yuuri presses. 

Mila looks up from where she’s typing away on her computer and sighs. “Yuuri.”

“I just wanna know,” Yuuri mumbles, doodling absently on a post-it note. “No one will tell me.”

“One day someone will tell you,” Mila assures him. “But that day is not today.”

 

–

 

Yuuri seeks out Christophe, then. 

“That woman knows exactly what she did,” the creative director says, the expression on his face darkening. “E x a c t l y.”

He squints menacingly at a spot on the wall for a good moment while Yuuri stands by awkwardly. “Um.” 

He decides not to ask Chris about it anymore, after that.

  
–

  
Victor pants beneath Yuuri, fingers digging into his hips. “Yuuri… why… why’d you _stop_ , please…”

Yuuri pushes silver hair out of his face, presses a kiss to his forehead and _grinds_. “Tell me, please.”

"Tell you what?” Victor groans, chest heaving. “I’ll tell you anything, c'mon just… just move…”

Yuuri pauses. “What did Sab do?”

_“For fuck’s sake.”_


	25. the skirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> braveten said: kic au where everything is the same but instead of the jeans(tm) it's the skirt(tm)
> 
> *not canon, it's an au. parallels kic only slightly and can still stand alone from the fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the skirt: [link](http://www.leathercult.com/leather-skirts/winnie-leather-skirt-406-50-colors)
> 
> there's also awesome art for this drabble!!!  
> 
> 
> * [lovelytitania](http://lovelytitania.tumblr.com/post/161332020274/can-you-believe-kings-in-couture-by-forovnix)  
> 
> * [classicalcassiopeia](https://classicalcassiopeia.tumblr.com/post/161328534358/forovnix-im-too-tired-to-do-the-face-or)  
> 
> * [chamirablossom](http://chamirablossom.tumblr.com/post/161310772323/i-did-a-thing)  
> 
> * spot-of-paint [one](https://spot-of-paint.tumblr.com/post/161310257380/forovnix-okay-so-this-is-try-two-and-im-so) and [two](https://spot-of-paint.tumblr.com/post/161311055930/okay-so-final-yuuri-with-a-skirt-oh-gosh-anatomy)

“Yuuri?”

“H-hold on!”

Yuuri stares at himself in the mirror.

The skirt is _short_ , is the thing. It’s leather, with a diagonal zip on the front and a small cut over his right thigh. His knees brush together as he shuffles his feet self-consciously, and he stumbles backwards until his shoulder blades meet the wall of the fitting room.

“Yuuri, can I see?” Phichit’s excited voice floats from the other side of the door. “C’mon, c’mon, lemme…”

Yuuri takes a deep breath and pulls the door open, screws his eyes shut.

“…see the—holy shit, Yuuri.”

Yuuri exhales, keeps his eyes closed. “How bad is it?” he demands. When Phichit doesn’t reply, he peeks one eye open. “Phichit?”

His friend stares at him, slack-jawed. “You’re…”

He throws his face into his hands. “I knew it, this was a terrible idea.”

“Really, really hot, Yuuri,” Phichit finishes. He breaks into a smile. “Victor’s gonna freak.”

“It’s not for Victor,” Yuuri mumbles, cheeks pinkening. “Mila said I had to shop and—”

“And we’re getting you matching shoes with that outfit.” Phichit practically hauls him out of the fitting room. “Keep it on, let’s go pay.”

Yuuri pays for the skirt, miraculously maintaining a straight face at the hundred dollar price tag. One skirt. _One skirt_.  
Phichit finds him a blouse at Dolce  & Gabbana, platform shoes at Prada (“One day, I’ll get you to wear heels,” Phichit promises) and Yuuri is convinced that he doesn’t care, at all, about the state of his bank account.

“I hope this means you’ve got my half of the rent covered next month,” Yuuri tells him as his card gets swiped for the third time that day.

Phichit snorts. “If you’re still my roommate next month.”

Yuuri frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Phichit only winks back at him.

 

***

 

Victor walks into the office with express purpose, Mila trailing behind him. He’s dressed warmly for the autumn, fitted sweater stretched across his chest and a coat hanging loosely around his shoulders.

He looks amazing, as usual.

_As usual._

Yuuri wants to die and so do you. _So do you, reader._

“I want the coats for the shoot selected from Lagerfeld's collection and—oh, Yuuri, you’re here.” Victor stops at Yuuri’s desk and produces a stack of manila folders. “Could you drop this off at Lifestyle & Culture? The pink post-its…”

“Pink post-its are your edits,” Yuuri finishes, taking the folders in his hands and standing up carefully. “Yeah, I’ll do that right now.”

“Yuuri,” Mila admonishes as he straightens up.

He freezes, hugging the folders closed to his chest. “What?”

“You’re… you went shopping,” she stutters.

“…Yes?” The warmth of embarrassment starts to creep up on his face, and before he can help it, his eyes flicker towards Victor’s face.  
The editor-in-chief is staring at him with an indiscernible expression; blue eyes blown wide and pink lips parted open. A perfect eyebrow twitches slightly as he takes in Yuuri’s outfit.

_His outfit._

What a mistake, Yuuri thinks. _It’samistakeit’samistakeit’samistake_.

He lowers his arms, as if the folders can help cover the skin of his thighs below the hem of the skirt.

Victor glances up quickly, then.  
“Guang-Hong needs those sorted as soon as possible,” is all he says, before tearing his eyes away and walking into his private office.

Mila offers Yuuri an encouraging smile before following him. “You look great,” she says over her shoulder.

Yuuri grimaces and looks down at himself. “Should’ve went with the jeans,” he mumbles.

 

***

 

**[HMCOUTURE SLACK CHANNEL: #editors_random]**

**georgip** : new andre is testing us  
**georgip** : _testing_ _us_  
**sarac** : i’m tearing up  
**leodl** : he’s at guang hong’s desk rn omg  
**emiln** : new andre is a gift  
**michelec** : where did he even  
**michelec** : how did he even  
**jeanjacquesl** : wooow where was my parade when i showed up wearing a leather mini last month  
**georgip** : you wore a leather mini in july you’re lucky we didn’t ostracize you  
**jeanjacquesl** : i feel plenty ostracized most days :/  
**guanghongj** : i feel god in this chili’s tonight  
**sarac** : awwww jj  
**sarac** : LOL  
**guanghongj** : istg he’s not even wearing any makeup it’s just cherry chapstick  
**georgip** : and yet  
**emiln** : _and_ _yet_  
**sarac** : [sobs forever]

 

***

 

**[HMCOUTURE DIRECT MESSAGES: @victorn + @christopheg]**

**victorn** : i see u typing  
**victorn** : before you finish your thought, i have a request—don’t  
**victorn** : i know, chris  
**victorn** : i know  
**christopheg** : listen, i understand that you haven’t flirted in the last 10 years  
**victorn** : how dare u  
**victorn** : he is my _secretary_  
**victorn** : it is his _first_ _week_ _here_  
**christopheg** : however,  
**victorn** : no  
**christopheg** : hahaha i’m only teasing you :-)  
**christopheg** : good luck  
**victorn** : you’re fired  
**christopheg** : it’s a normal wednesday then

**_victorn has gone offline_ **

**christopheg** : awfully rude

 

***

  
Victor paces in his office for sometime. Finally, he sticks his head out his office door.

“Yuuri back yet?”

Mila looks up from where she’s typing away at her computer. “Oh, Sara needed some polaroids for the Lancôme spread so he went to deliver them to her. That’s… that’s okay, right?” Her eyebrows push together. “I saw you attached the edits on—”

Victor waves a hand. “Let me know when he’s back.”

 

***

  
After a stressful conference call with Yakov and the board, Victor leans back in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly. He glances again into the secretaries’ area.

Still no Yuuri.

He presses a button on his office phone. “Mila, he’s not back yet?”

“The coats from Lagerfeld arrived and I needed to take care of some notes from Demarchelier so—”

“Let me know when he’s back.”

 

***

  
It’s 12:30pm. Time for the run-through.

Still no Yuuri.

“He’s already at the conference room,” Mila says quickly when he emerges from his office.

It is perhaps the fastest that Victor has ever made his way to a run-through.

 

***

 

**[HMCOUTURE SLACK CHANNEL: #editors_random]  
**   


**jeanjacquesl** : this is so painful  
**otabeka** : we’re in the middle of a meeting, jj, please get off your phone  
**jeanjacquesl** : you’re on your phone, too, now  
**otabeka** : …i have reason to be overseeing the servers  
**jeanjacquesl** : snort  
**otabeka** : i’m digital media and IT. you know this  
**jeanjacquesl** : snort x2  
**emiln** : this _is_ painful  
**georgip** : this is _fascinating_ , you mean  
**georgip** : alright, place your bets  
**jeanjacquesl** : pfft, bets? what are we, interns?  
**jeanjacquesl** : $10. one month  
**emiln** : $10 on one year  
**georgip** : you fools  
**otabeka** : gambling violates company policy  
**georgip** : $20 end of the day  
**leodl** : $5 end of the day  
**emiln** : you’re always so cheap, iglesia  
**leodl** : guanghong says he’ll do $10 one month too  
**otabeka** : no one listens to me

 

***

 

"You look nice.”

Yuuri nearly drops the notes he’s gathered in his arms at the sound of Victor’s voice.

“Thank you,” he replies hotly, glancing around the room. The editors that haven’t left yet are now gathering their things more slowly, shooting each other looks and pretending like they’re not listening in.

Victor doesn’t seem to notice. He leans forward and rests his forearms on the table. “I was wondering…”

The editors move even more slowly, and Yuuri’s heart pounds in his ears.

“…if perhaps you could…”

 _There’s no way_ , Yuuri thinks to himself, his world teetering all the while. _No way that Phichit was right. No way, Victor wouldn’t_ …

“…get those memos proofread by tonight?”

And just like that, the universe rights itself. The editors’ shoulders all collectively sag, and Yuuri finds himself blinking at Victor, who very much looks like he wants to slump his shoulders too. Still, he’s flashing Yuuri a smile.

He must be overworking himself, especially with all the calls he’s been having with Yakov. No wonder he wants to get the notes sorted so quickly.

“Of course,” Yuuri nods at him.

“Fantastic,” Victor replies through his teeth.

 

***

 

**[HMCOUTURE SLACK CHANNEL: #editors_random]**

**leodl** : and that is why i only bet in $5 increments  
**georgip** : im emo  
**jeanjacquesl** : you’re always emo  
**emiln** : _pats_


	26. with a shuddering gasp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: Omg yes, KIC #11 for the I love you prompts
> 
> or, the way you said i love you—with a shuddering gasp
> 
> *not canon  
> *future fic

“Careful, careful,” Yuuri mumbles, ducking his head into Victor’s neck.

He hears Victor laugh above him, before getting pulled closer by the arm around his waist. “Everyone’s watching you. Don’t hide,” Victor says into his ear, warm breath grazing his skin.

Yuuri pokes him as they continue to waltz around the dance floor of the ballroom. “They’re only watching me because you,” he glances up with a pointed look, “you keep nearly stepping on my shoes, and you know Michele got me these on loan from Gautier, you want me in trouble—”

He stops talking when Victor starts laughing again. “Yuuuuuri,” he coos, nuzzling his cheek. “Listen to you right now. Why, if someone told me Yuuri Katsuki would one day be lecturing me on shoes—”

“I’m lecturing you on your _dancing_.”

“I wouldn’t have believed them! It’s like… it’s like…” Victor searches for words, twirling them around all the while. 

“It’s like Balenciaga releasing an IKEA bag?” Yuuri prompts. 

Victor grins at him, squeezing his waist. “Exactly.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, then yelps a second later. “Victor,” he says through gritted teeth, “The _shoes_.”

“Mmm, sorry,” Victor says against his forehead, not sounding sorry at all. He says after a moment, “I love you.”

Yuuri keeps his mouth firmly shut, fixates his eyes on a statue at the mouth of the room’s entrance. It’s a pair of winged angels, naked and beautiful and leaping towards the heavens. 

“Yuuri.” He can practically hear Victor frowning above him. “I love you,” he repeats. 

He waits a beat before replying sincerely, “Thank you.” 

“ _Yuuri_.” The hand on his waist travels to his side, fingers digging in and tickling. 

“Stop,” Yuuri can’t help the laugh that he barks out. “Victor, hey, stop.”

“Say it.”

“Sto- _hah_ , stop it.”

“ _Say_ _it_.” The fingers are merciless, brushing tortuously against his weak spots. Yuuri’s halfway between laughing and wheezing, and they’re not even dancing anymore, just frozen in one spot as Victor holds his body flush against his, Yuuri giggling in his arms. 

“I lo— _please_ , I’m saying it, I am,” he gasps out. “I love you.”

And as fast as he takes a deep breath when the assault _finally_ ceases, Victor’s mouth is on his, taking it away again.


	27. on a post-it note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deathbycoldopen said: For the prompt meme, could you do #33 for kic viktuuri? (◠‿◠✿)
> 
> anonymous said: kic ! 33 wonk wonk
> 
> also anonymous said: KIC #33 please! :,)
> 
> or, the way you said i love you—on a post-it note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to spookyfoot for their help describing the outfit!!
> 
> here's the [dolce & gabbana ad](http://assets.vogue.com/photos/587a2dd079e5933122d935d9/master/pass/_DOL0687.jpg)

It’s got to be a mistake.

“Yuuri, oh my god,” Phichit squeals through a mouth of chow fun. His eyes are wide as saucers.

It’samistakeit’samistakeit’samistake.

“Shut up, I can hear you thinking. You nerd.” Phichit rolls his eyes. He makes a beckoning gesture with the chopsticks in his hand.

“Lemme see it again.”

Yuuri grudgingly hands over the binder mockup of HMC’s next issue. It’s thick; seventy-something pages long and covered in various notes after a full day of being passed around between each department. Yuuri’s meant to proofread them and deliver a report to Victor in the morning.

“Don’t get oil on it,” he mumbles. He helps himself to chunks of braised tofu as Phichit flips through the pages, thumbing at the pink post-it notes.

Pink post-it notes. Victor’s notes.

“One, two… three… four… five, six—six! Six love letters so far and I’m still only on page five,” Phichit exclaims. He slaps his thigh excitedly with his chopsticks hand, flinging drops of vegetable oil onto the hardwood floor of their living room.

“They’re not love letters,” Yuuri insists, blushing furiously. He squirms where he’s sat cross-legged on the floor at the coffee table and gives his friend a warning look. “They’re just…” He trails off, not really knowing how to describe the several post-its containing variations of

**Show Y♡  
** **Check with Y♡  
** **♡Thoughts, Y?**

And a very ominous ♡♡ **YK** ♡♡ over a Dolce & Gabbana advertisement of a model wearing suede hot pants and a matching cropped bralette.

“They’re just love letters, yeah,” Phichit finishes for him, snorting. He gazes dreamily back at the binder. “So what did he do, just hand you the binder and say, ‘ _Please give me a comprehensive report and your un-manicured hand in marriage by the morning?’”_

Yuuri grinds through the tofu in his mouth and swallows quickly. Glares at him all the while. “ _No_. He said, ‘Please have the comprehensive report by the morning, I know it’s heavy so you can take your leave early. Don’t skimp on the details.’”

He doesn’t say why he’s got this memorized. He doesn’t say that he’s almost no longer needed to take down notes on anything Victor tells him anymore because he remembers every word that leaves his mouth.

“ _Don’t skimp on the details_ ,” Phichit echoes. He gives Yuuri a funny look. “He’s so weird. Why doesn’t he ask you out like a normal person?”

“He _doesn’t_ want to ask me out. He’s just…” Yuuri makes an exasperated noise and runs a hand through his hair. “Confusing.”

So, so confusing.

When Yuuri hands Victor the binder and the report in the morning, the editor-in-chief holds up one hand to signal for him to wait. Yuuri waits patiently as he scans the report, watches Victor’s eyebrows knit together and his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Victor nods when he finishes. “Very good. Yeah.” He coughs and looks up at Yuuri. “Was that all?”

Yuuri feels his face heat up. Was he meant to acknowledge the hearts after all? He did end up leaving a—

“Chris said he’d bring by more sketches later, didn’t he?” Victor asks, then.

Yuuri flushes, shoulder sagging. Of course. Of course. He doesn’t know why he keeps letting Phichit’s words get to his head; he always ends up wrong. “He said he’d have them in by noon.”

“Sounds great.” Victor gives a close-lipped smile and nods again, turning back to binder. Yuuri takes that as his dismissal and steps out, cursing himself all the while. He sincerely hopes Victor had missed the — **YK** ♡ he’d left at the bottom of the report.


	28. over a beer bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: For the prompt thing, could you do #5 for KIC?
> 
> or, the way you said i love you—over a beer bottle
> 
> *not canon  
> *future fic

Victor dabs at the corners of his mouth with a napkin and grimaces. “I hate this,” he says. “How can you drink this?” 

“Shut up. Enjoy it. Live like the city boy you are,” Yuuri commands. He settles into his corner on the couch and takes a swig from his own bottle. A bit too loosely, in Victor’s opinion.

Don’t spill, Victor had warned earlier. It’s real leather.

Yuuri had laughed in his face.

“I’m not much of a city boy,” Victor says with a frown. Still, he obliges and tips the beer into his mouth. Yuuri grins and urges him to chug.

Victor chugs. 

“Eugh.” He makes a face and sets the empty bottle back down on his sitting room table.

(Neatly, on a coaster.) 

He wants to say that wasn’t worth it, but for the amount of stars that are in Yuuri’s eyes right now, it definitely was. 

“I love you,” Yuuri says in awe.


	29. traffic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another headcanon ft. victor & chris' friendship
> 
> *canon to the story

sometimes when city traffic is really bad, victor will helicopter to his destination. he has only had to resort to this twice. the first time was during new york fashion week 2015, and he was running late for marc jacobs’ ready-to-wear collection for the spring. the thai bistro he and chris were lunching at had a wait on the curry masala, and the curry masala was the whole reason they were eating there in the first place, so, okay fine, brenda, _was that your name?_ the waitress flushes and nods yes, and _fine, brenda, we’ll wait._

and then suddenly it was 1:48pm and they were on the other side of the island and why does marc hold a show at 2pm, anyway? ridiculous. annoying. victor calls the fifth contact listed on his ‘favorites’ list. 

“there’s a helipad five blocks away from you, sir.” 

_in these shoes?_

“er… we’ll… we’ll clear out the top floor of the parking structure across the street from you, sir.” 

the next person victor calls is mila, who calls marc, who texts his PA jonathan, who radios the dj and instructs her to keep playing, don’t ask for how long, just—just keep playing and so she does, until victor and chris walk through the door fifteen minutes later, strolling like they’ve got all the time in the world. 

which, when you’re victor nikiforov and christophe giacometti, you do.


	30. points of view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kiaronna said: POV POV POV. If I say it three times do I get 3 POVs? ;) I'm kidding, but. Hurray for this game!
> 
> anonymous said: POV :D
> 
> also anonymous said: POV KIC for the no excuse writig asks 
> 
> or, from the no writing ask meme:  
> POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective
> 
> *canon to the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't read kic, this may not make much sense to you so just skip this if you'd like~

**1\. Chapter 1: Yuuri’s Interview - Mila’s POV**

“Who’s this?”

Mila watches as Yuuri flushes under Victor’s gaze. She knows what the pressure of capturing Victor’s full attention feels like, although it’s not like that’s a thing that occurs regularly. When Yuuri still doesn’t say anything, she nudges him and resists the urge to sigh. She _did_ warn him, didn’t she? He had, at the very least, _heard_ the rumors, hadn’t he?

Honestly.

“Um, I’m Yuuri,” he says, wincing at how his voice cracks.

Victor’s eyes roam over Yuuri’s body, taking in his clothes. Mila has to wince, too. His trousers are too long and too large, his blazer’s too tight around the shoulders; maybe she shouldn’t have even let Yuuri get this far, Lilia Baranovskaya be damned.

“Are you the new Andre?” Victor asks.

Lilia could have at least given her a warning before sending this man over. Because then Mila could have done—something—something _more_ than just stashing away his godforsaken portfolio bag, as if that made any difference, _look_ _at_ _him_ —but now. Now he’s in front of Victor like this, with Victor staring at him like that, with Mila off to the side and she’ll no doubt be reprimanded later for letting someone step into Victor’s private office in such a state.

She’s got to do something.

“He’s interviewing for the position,” she cuts in. “We were just finishing up before you arrived.”

There. No worries, Victor. Say the word and she’ll handle it, this guy will be gone.

But then:

_“Let’s finish your interview for now.”_

Mila freezes mid-writing, nearly dropping her pen. She’s handled all the interviews for jobs working directly with Victor ever since he’d hired her. Granted, Yuuri’s vying for a secretary position under him, but Victor hadn’t even wanted anything to do with the hiring process for Andre, or Jessica, or Kent, or—

“That’s all, Mila.” Victor dismisses her.

She doesn’t understand. _Who are you, exactly?_ she wants to ask Yuuri, trying desperately to figure out this man, this new blood that’s somehow already managed to interest Lilia and now Victor and, who’s next, _Yakov_?

Mila would love to see the day.

 

**2\. Chapter 2: The Closet - Michele’s POV**

Michele hears him before he sees him. His footsteps don’t click against the marble. They don’t stride confidently or stroll effortlessly. And yet when Michele _does_ see him, his persona seems effortless indeed. Shy and well-meaning and perhaps a touch stiff in the knees and elbows—but it all rolls off as seemingly effortless.

He’s reminded, distantly, of Bambi.

…Which is dangerous. Michele’s _already_ got his sister to protect from the more cutthroat, stringent corners of the fashion industry. Grazie mille.

Still—his closet is his closet, and it is a safe haven that welcomes all.

(Well, almost. With what Georgi and Emil are planning… that’s a different story.)

For now, he’ll take care of the doe-eyed deer.

“You must be Yuuri,” he says with a smile.

 

**3\. Chapter 2: (After) The Run-Through - Seunggil’s POV**

Georgi _must_ be testing the universe today. He’s trying his goddamned life.

“ _Shit_ ,” Emil says under his breath as they watch the runway editor approach Victor’s new secretary. “Don’t do it, G.”

“He’s going to do it,” Seunggil says. JJ laughs beside him, and Sara’s already shaking her head.

Georgi leans in close, his quiff defying gravity all the while. “Yuuri, right?”

“Et voilà.” JJ smirks.

“Between two dumbass options, Georgi will go and create his own Popovich-patented dumbass option,” Seunggil mutters.

When all is done and over with, when the new guy’s stumbled his way out the door, when Victor stalks out of the room in a brisker pace than usual, when all the blood has drained from Georgi’s face—not that it’s noticeable, with all the layers of BB cream he slathers on his face—Seunggil still hasn’t decided if this is one of those weeks where he hates his job or he loves it.

At the very least, Georgi’s getting karma for stealing the cranberry polaroids out from under his nose. And, he’s got inspiration for his next article.

Seunggil sits down at his desk, pulls out a tupperware of kale chips to snack on, and writes.


	31. our lord and savior, new andre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: asdfghjkl just had a thought Yuuri comes into work one day wearing bright red lipstick Victor is suspiciously not seen for long periods that day
> 
> *not canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, i had actually titled 'the skirt' chapter as 'our lord and savior, new andre.' here's the forreal one!!! lols
> 
> anyways have some more interns

##  **[HMCOUTURE SLACK CHANNEL: #interns_newandre]**

_**alext** ,  **allisonm, jennaj,**_ ** _aaronp_ , **and **_shiftys_  **have joined the channel.

 **jennaj** : what is this   
 **alext** : oh my god…   
 **shiftys** : i just figured since we talk about him so much he deserves his own channel

 ** _shiftys_**  set the channel purpose:  _to talk about our lord and savior, new andre_

 **alext** :  _snORT_  
 **aaronp** : shifty, you are not using your admin powers for good  
 **allisonm:** with an ass that sinful, nothing about new andre has been good  
 **shiftys** : LALSION  
 **aaronp** : …you’re not wrong  
 **jennaj** : omfg  
 **shiftys** : you’re gonna get my admin powers stripped  
 **shiftys** : i just wanted to talk about his look today D:  
 **alext** : that MAC lip mix… a classic  
 **jennaj** : agreed, he really should borrow from sara’s drawer more often  
 **allisonm** : what do you mean  _sara’s drawer,_  that is clearly victor’s   
 **allisonm has shared a file: VN_METGALA0421.img  
allisonm has shared a file: VN_LAGBENEFIT0238.img  
allisonm has shared a link: insta.gram/katsukiyuuri/post/24135  
shiftys**: WOW  
 **aaronp:** allison wtf you whipped out those receipts so fast  
 **allisonm** : listen… i am their biggest shipper  
 **alext** : ohohoho i will fight you for that title

 ** _sarac_**  has joined the channel.

 **sarac** : [breaks down door] DID SOMEONE SAY VICTOR AND YUURI’S BIGGEST SHIPPER  
 **jennaj** : sara omfg  
 **shiftys** : you’re not even an intern get outta here


	32. red through me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to kiss you.”
> 
> *not canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy belated birthday, [nica](https://nicaforov.tumblr.com/) <3 <3 <3

There are several things Victor could have said. 

He could have said, “That color suits you.” 

Or perhaps something that makes conversation, something like, “Nice, what will you wear with that?”

Or maybe even just, “You look really good, wow, amazing,” and he could have left it at that. 

Victor has several options here, but the one he chooses is apparently the big red button in the corner of his mind labelled ‘DO NOT TOUCH—PRESS FOR REGRETS’ because here he is, reaching up to skim the back of his knuckle against the freshly applied lipstick on Yuuri’s mouth and blurting out, 

“I want to kiss you.” 

Yuuri freezes. Victor’s mind short-circuits. 

(From the corner of his eye, he can see a pair of interns entering the HMC closet and then immediately exiting when the words leave his mouth.) 

No one moves for so long that the motion detector sensors prompt the lights to turn off, plunging them in darkness and surrounding them in shapeless racks of clothing. 

And that’s, well. That does it for Victor. His hand jerks erratically, flying to the scarf around his neck as if to readjust it, as if it weren’t hanging perfectly already. The lights turn on, and Victor gets a quick glimpse of Yuuri staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips—full, dripping red, utterly kissable, completely untouchable—before he screws his eyes shut. 

Darkness again, so that maybe Yuuri can leave before he continues to make a fool of himself. 

Breathing through his nose, he counts a full three Mississippi’s before saying quietly, “Please excuse my words. They were hardly appropriate, and I understand if you’d prefer to take your leave for the rest of the day, or the week, even, and of course you’d be fully compensated for—“

He cuts himself off when he feels something soft brush against his lips. 

This time, he’s quick to react. He presses forward, pushing their mouths together again. And again. He cups Yuuri’s jaw, traces a thumb back and forth on his jawline. A hand slips into his hair and pulls, not that hard but enough to make him gasp a bit, and then a tongue is slipping into his mouth. 

Victor’s not sure if his mind has short-circuited again, or if maybe it never recovered from earlier. All he knows, all he _feels_ , is Yuuri—licking into his mouth, pushing him against the shelf of handbags behind him, slipping a hand underneath his shirt to press hotly on the muscle of his abdomen. 

There are small details, too, that he registers faintly. Like the sound of a tube of lipstick dropping to the floor and rolling away, and how Yuuri tastes like coffee but _smells_ like tea, and also how he’s relieved microfiber doesn’t wrinkle. 

He says that last part out loud probably, while Yuuri has ducked down to mouth at his neck, because suddenly Yuuri’s pulling away to give him a look of utter disbelief. His lips are wet, lightly bruised from kissing, and covered in a messy smear of Dior Rouge around his mouth. 

Victor’s sure he looks the same, but he laughs anyway. “You look incredible.”

Yuuri blushes, but his mouth twitches. Victor wants to paint him in every shade of red imaginable.“You have never looked better,” he says, smiling and serious. 


	33. i'm not wearing that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> osnapitzhanaa said: 4 word prompt: I'm not wearing that featuring Kictuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chris gives yuuri [this](http://miamifashionweek.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/692041374.529398158.jpg) then [this](http://miamifashionweek.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/692036554.529398013.jpg)
> 
> chris is wearing this [this](http://miamifashionweek.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/692034974.529397286.jpg)
> 
> victor is wearing [this](http://miamifashionweek.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/692034758.529396946.jpg)

  
Yuuri says, “I’m not wearing at that,” at the same time Victor says, “My god.”

Chris blinks innocently. “What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s a strip of cloth, Chris,” Yuuri says flatly. “That’s not even… it’s going to show everything.” He shudders a bit.

“Everything,” Victor echoes, staring between Yuuri and the swim trunks, if they could even be called that. If it was anything like the firetruck red version that Chris was sporting, it would be skin-tight and obscene.

“No. I’m sorry. Absolutely not.” Yuuri shakes his head vigorously. “I couldn’t possibly. Right, Victor?”

“Right,” Victor says automatically. He’s dressed a bit more sensibly, with a sweater and actual swim trunks, but there’s a bit of sunscreen lotion on the dip of his exposed chest that didn’t get smoothed out all the way. He looks up and blinks. “Sorry what?”

Yuuri sighs, tearing his eyes away and crossing his arms. “Tell Chris I can’t wear that.”

“It’s a beach excursion. We’re at a _beach_ ,” Chris insists. “It’s not my fault you didn’t bring appropriate clothing—“

“I _brought_ clothing, these Target khakis fit me just fine—“

“—it’s not my fault you didn’t bring appropriate clothing,” Chris says, even louder. “But fine. You can wear this over it, if you’d like, which _would be a shame_ ,” he gives them both very pointed looks as he grabs something else from the tote slung over his shoulder, “but fine.”

He sighs, though, like it is not fine at all. He tosses the clothes into Yuuri’s arms and swiftly exits the room. Yuuri groans as he holds up the cover-up. “This is sheer.”

“Doesn’t make a difference at all,” Victor agrees. “It could’ve been worse, though.”

“It couldn’t _possibly_.”

“It could’ve been a speedo,” Victor points out.

Yuuri turns paper-white at that. “I’ll go get changed,” he mumbles.

Victor nods and makes himself comfortable in the armchair by the wardrobe.

“Um. Victor?”

“Oh! Oh, okay. Did you want me to leave?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri hisses.

Victor frowns in disappointment, but plucks the sunglasses sitting atop his head and waves them in the air. “I’ll wait on the patio!”


	34. will you marry me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> swiftgirl01 said: Will you marry me Victuuri ;) kings in couture for the four word prompt.

Victor sticks his head out of his private office. “Yuuri, could you grab me the—”

“Mockup for the cover? I uploaded a digital copy onto your cloud already,” Yuuri tells him.

“Oh.” Victor blinks at him. “Did you also attach—”

“Mario’s notes? Yeah, that’s there, too,” Yuuri says. He looks a bit sheepish. “I hope it’s not confusing to read. I went ahead and cross-referenced them with the questions you had sent him about the coloring, but I can re-format it, if you’d like.”

“Wow,” Victor breathes. “Will you marry me?”

Yuuri gives a small laugh, red quickly coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. This is the part where Victor flashes him a wink and leaves him to collapse into his chest.

“You’re a godsend.” Victor winks and ducks back into his office.

Bingo.

Mila tsks quietly from where she’s working across the room. “It’s like he doesn’t even notice I make his coffee perfectly every single time.” She points a finger at Yuuri. “Don’t let him fool you with that Costa Rican bean crap. Remember, it’s a dark Pike Place roast with…”

“Two sugars and a splash of milk,” Yuuri finishes with a tired smile. He glances through the glass wall where Victor’s clicking away on his computer with immense concentration, one brow furrowed and a finger to his lips. “Yeah. I remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pining yuuri bwah


	35. just yuuri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: What do YOU mean have you been writing kic is Jesus back on earth
> 
> *not canon

“is jesus back on earth?  _god_ ,” victor breathes. “god.” 

chris follows victor’s line of sight through the glass of his office door, to the man sitting just outside. he snorts. “no, that’s just yuuri,” he says reassuringly. 

“ _just_  yuuri,” victor says. he looks offended. “how dare you.” 

they watch yuuri readjust his necktie, the tip of his tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he stares into the little mirror on his desk. he’s totally fucking it up. 

“you should help him,” chris suggests. victor is already making his way over. “be cool, v.”

“i’m always cool, shut up,” he hisses indignantly over his shoulder, just before the office door closes. chris watches him stub his toe on yuuri’s desk as he leans over and smiles prettily, hands reaching out to subtly brush against yuuri’s fingers and redo his tie for him. smooth. 


	36. same-day shipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: aight so one day kic victor miraculously sorts out his feelings and he has this dramatic confession of love and yuuri's like "nah fam u made me run on too many errands remember that one time u had me chase after michael kors' flight at five am in the morning? yeah that shit messed me up u gotta buy me food for the rest of the year and treat me out to disney land if u want my affections"
> 
> *not canon (hashtag crack yo)

“i love you,” victor says. “and i wanna make out with you all the time. i think about holding your hand and putting your glasses on for you in the morning. earlier today i bought us matching pajamas. i’ve never even worn a full pajama in my life.”

yuuri blinks. “wow. um.”

“they’re silk,” victor continues. “remember that textile sample i made you feel earlier? it’s like that but softer. and i mean, like,  _softer_ —but that’s not the point. sorry. the point is that i’ve never  _deigned_  to match clothes with anyone in my life but i wanna do that with you, even though i think it’s secretly lame, even though i think it’s secretly super super cute, actually. because you’re cute. and i’m in love with you.”

“yeah,” yuuri says after a moment. he looks overwhelmed. “yeah i got that.” 

another moment passes. victor looks at yuuri expectantly.

“so,” he prompts.

“so.” yuuri blinks again. several times. takes his glasses off and tries to put them in the breast pocket of his shirt, except it’s not actually a real pocket and is sewn shut so he has to awkwardly tuck it over his collar like he meant to do that in the first place. “so i’ll get back to you.” 

“pardon?” victor freezes halfway through stepping closer to yuuri. he steps back with extreme reluctance. “get… back to me?” he repeats. 

“five to seven business days.” yuuri nods. “no, okay. three to five.” 

“what?” 

“yeah. i’ll pencil you in,” yuuri says, more firmly now. “my people will call your people. and if that call comes at 4:30 in the morning and you don’t pick up by the second and a half ring then that’s it.” 

“but… but i have—amazon prime?” victor tries. “same-day shipping?” 

yuuri snorts. “you wish.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> victor: [blinking guy gif]
> 
>  
> 
> *also i rlly appreciate the comments on these drabbles! i read every one of them and im sorry that i dont respond to all, its just that ao3 doesnt tell me which chapters you guys are commenting on when i get the notification so it’s hard to respond without context, esp in a work like this that has so many chapters :( i lov it so much tho ok thank u for all the reception <3


	37. utterly un-holy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: Can you please bless us with a Kic drabble in honor of the Met Gala amen we love u Justine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not rlly a full drabble but i wrote some tidbits waho lets go

“this,” victor says under his breath when he sees yuuri. there are trumpets sounding in the background. there’s a huge shining beacon of light. possibly coming out of yuuri himself. like, from within the center of his soul. his face. his ass. it’s a spiritual experience. “this is my new religion.” 

*

aka the REAL ‘[do you have some time to discuss our lord and saviour: new andre](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F11581218%2Fchapters%2F26035020&t=NzdmOWQ1N2FmY2UzMWNmN2UyOGFmNGY1OTRjNWY3Y2U4MjQzMmU2Yix0ODRySHl5NQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AfBm2iMz97jVWTNyqQM1w-Q&p=https%3A%2F%2Fforovnix.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173879776106%2Fcan-you-please-bless-us-with-a-kic-drabble-in&m=1)’

*

“who’s the saint,” rihanna laughs as she looks over her shoulder, sees the lace-covered man hanging around the back of the carpet. “what the shit, someone invited a literal saint. bitch. that’s fucking amazing.” 

#WhosTheSaint #WhomstdveWithTheLACE 

*

yuuri’s not sure what to do with the attention, but he knows he didnt get waxed plucked moisturized cologned brushed FOR NOTHING so he stands. he smiles. he bats his eyelashes, because he’s not used to the like three extra coats of mascara that sara put on him, but instead it comes off real coy and purposeful and—

“i don’t know if he’s ruining catholicism? or like, saving it?” mila squints from the other end of the carpet. sara hums and nods beside her, pulls out her phone to throw a poll out to the company group chat. sara says after a moment, “84 votes are in and it’s indeed 50-50. i say we call it.”  

*

“pretty sure you’re not following dress code,” victor tells yuuri later, pulls him close in the middle of the dance floor. “pretty sure i’m gonna have to ban you from this event.” 

yuuri snorts. “you helped approve of this outfit. remember.” 

“well, you look, like. not. you’re,” victor splutters, trying not to sound too indignant, desperate. yuuri seems to look at him with something like pity and amusement. he finally settles on, “complete sin. you’re utterly un-holy.”

“utterly un-holy,” yuuri repeats, red lips quirking into a smile.  

“shut up.” 

“ _you_  said it.” 

“shut up. you’re laughing at me. you can’t do that.”

“can’t do this, can’t wear that, what  _can_  i do, huh?” yuuri teases, spins victor in his arms. then, tugs at the satin on victor’s suit and pulls him closer, closer. lets the spicy vanilla scent of victor wash over him. curls his hand around victor’s waist and just holds him, just right there, while the people around them continue to dance, while the music continues to swell. 

“this,” victor breathes, looking down at him with wide eyes. “just this. just this always.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon also said imagine yuuri in [zoe kravitz's dress](https://assets.teenvogue.com/photos/5af0dd4178277270fe3ed9cc/master/pass/2018-met-gala-zoe-kravitz.jpg) and to that i say: cheers mate time 2 die im ready


	38. The (Boyfriend) Jeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: 7 or 10 for any kic pairing? / 7. blue / 10. not wearing that

When Yuuri admits to Victor that his newly-bought jeans are a little uncomfortable, like just erring on the side of a little too _tight_ , Victor purses his lips and deliberates on it for a bit. Then:

“So don’t wear them,” Victor says finally. He pauses again, like he’s hesitating. But then he nods, turns back to signing off on the papers Yuuri had brought him.

Yuuri frowns. “But Mila told me I needed to go shopping. Get new clothes.”

“You definitely need to do that,” Victor agrees, looking up to hand him back the files. Yuuri’s frown turns into a cute pout. Victor can’t help but smile. “But you should also wear things you feel comfortable in.”

“But the other day you said that fashion is all about being outside of your comfort zone,” Yuuri points out.

“That is also true,” Victor admits.

Yuuri groans, buries his head into the stack of papers in his arms.

“Okay, here.” Victor stands. “C’mon. Closet time.”

But instead of leading the way to the HMC closet, Victor simply walks to the large wardrobe in the corner of his own office. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a pair of light-wash jeans.

“Boyfriend jeans,” Victor says with a flourish. He hands them to Yuuri, who takes them with wide eyes.

“Boyfriend jeans,” Yuuri repeats. He holds them out in front of him. They look well-worn and soft, ripped gently at the knees.

“It’s a whole new world, I assure you,” Victor tells him. “You can borrow mine and see for yourself.”

“Your boyfriend jeans,” Yuuri says again, almost reverently. “Okay. Yeah, okay, I’ll um. Check them out. Thank you.”

Victor waves a hand. Casual. “Of course. Return them any time.” Real, real casual. “Or keep them. If you like them.” Super duper extremely casual.

Yuuri’s cheeks turn pink. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘my mind... it amazes me’ victor thinks to himself


	39. like dry cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deathbycoldopen said: 38 for kictuuri in the sensory prompts, if you feel like :) / 38. a person’s weight as they lie on top of you

The Louboutins were a bad idea. Yuuri knew they were a bad idea, for several reasons, like the fact that he has never walked in heels, and that these weren’t even in his size, and that the faint scent of disinfectant in the air indicated that the marble floor of the HMC closet had just been freshly mopped. 

However: 

“Now’s a good time to learn,” Sara had said encouragingly. 

“Just walk in them for a bit so we can see how it looks,” said Georgi with a wave of his hand.

“Doesn’t that only happen in cartoons?” JJ had asked. 

Victor had said nothing, but in the way that Victor never  _truly_  says nothing; had just leaned against a shelf of handbags and placed a finger on his bottom lip and watched quietly as Yuuri reluctantly slipped into the heels. 

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four. Like a bad Dr. Seuss book. Yuuri carefully made his way across the floor, shaky ankles and wobbly knees and fists clenched at his sides. 

“I think I got the hang of this,” he said, careful not to make it obvious that he was panting a bit, right before his ankle twisted and his world tipped upside down. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Sara said. 

Georgi gasped. “The shoes, oh my god, did they get scuffed?”  

“That was amazing,” JJ said in awe. 

“Oof,” Victor groaned out, arms tightening around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri froze where he found himself tucked into Victor’s neck, breathing in warm vanilla and aftershave. Victor huffed out a laugh and reached up to gently guide Yuuri’s head away, stared up at him with bright eyes and pink cheeks. “Jeez. I gotcha. You okay?” 

Yuuri blinked down at him. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I—” his eyes widened. “The shoes!” He moved to scramble away, Victor’s arms tentatively falling away as he pushed himself to sit up between Victor’s legs. “The shoes, your  _suit_. Oh no. I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay.” Victor pushed up on his elbows and smiled at him. Yuuri exhaled. “Freshly mopped, right? It’s like. Like dry cleaning. Right? Almost.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, agreeing immediately. He found himself nodding, and kept nodding as a lock of silver hair fell into Victor’s eyes. Probably half of the staff was in the room, just watching them as they continued to sit there on the floor together. Jesus. “Yeah. Almost, yeah.” 

Christophe snorted somewhere above them.   

“Amazing,” JJ repeated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 700 kudos... omg i cant say it enough so thank you for reading!! <3


	40. polyester (light wash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: 26 (with kictuuri maybe ?? if you want idc) / 26. the smell of cologne on warm skin

Victor smells… expensive. Yuuri doesn’t know how to put it any other way. 

Victor smells expensive in that he can brush past you in the hurried, important manner that he walks, and you smell his cologne and your first instinct is to make sure you’re absolutely not in his way so that he can get done whatever he needs to get done. Victor smells expensive in that he actually owns and uses a  _variety_  of colognes, because apparently you should smell a certain way for different occasions. Really. 

“You’re not joking,” Yuuri says, shocked, when Victor tells him this. He huffs out a laugh, because it’s funny. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s funny,” Victor says, even though he’s not laughing. “But I’m not joking.” 

“That’s… weird,” Yuuri mumbles. He makes a memo of it on his clipboard anyway.

**_~~rich people are weird??/!?!?!~~  every occasion has a smell. like attire, but smell_ **

Victor frowns at his note. Yuuri lifts an eyebrow, as if to challenge him to say something about the validity of his statement, but Victor says nothing.

“Like. What would you even smell like at a high school graduation, for example,” Yuuri says later in the car. He tries to say it like he genuinely wants to know, and he’s staring out the window so that he doesn’t have to look at Victor and try to keep a straight face.

“I can  _hear_  you smiling,” Victor mutters from the other end of the backseat. 

“My neighbors are throwing a we’re-never-getting-married party this weekend,” Yuuri continues, biting his lip. “How would I fully convey my sincere congratulations when they come in for a hug and,” he pauses for effect and turns around this time, leans into Victor’s space, “…sniff me?” 

“You do not get to make fun of me.” Victor rolls his eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re wearing polyester. How dare you.” 

“Polyester.” Yuuri rolls his eyes, too. 

He leans back, because he actually did get a whiff of Victor’s cologne just now and goddammit. They’re making their way to a photoshoot in Central Park and, remarkably, Victor’s cologne does make sense for this occasion. Hot expensive fashion person. Looking to have a fun hot expensive day at the park. Light and floral. And sexy. And expensive. Goddammit. Yuuri looks out the window again. 

“Genuine question now. When I go in to work and get harrassed by my boss for wearing  _polyester_ ,” he says with a growing sense of confidence, “how should I be smelling? What would that—” He freezes when he feels a weight press into his side, and hears a distinct sniffing sound at the hair behind his ear. 

Victor hums, low and quiet. “I think you’re fine. I think you already got it.” 

Victor does not move away. 

“Okay,” Yuuri says, feeling kind of strangled, not really knowing what else to say. What happened to his confidence. What happened to his  _sense of smell_ , Victor’s cologne is so strong now, and it’s sticking to Yuuri, probably—

Victor sniffs again, exaggeratedly. He’s giggling a bit, sounding thoroughly entertained. “Yeah, I think you’re solid. Good job.” 

“Great, okay,” Yuuri says dryly. He sighs. Goddammit. “Thanks.” 

“Look at you, wearing  _polyester_ , getting  _harrassed_  by your horrible boss—”

Yuuri elbows Victor in his side and makes a face at him. “I’m gonna quit. I’ve decided.” 

“You’re not scented for the occasion, sweetheart, but sure, let’s stop by my dresser on the way out later—”

Yuuri finds himself laughing, sees Victor grinning down at him, and maybe from this close it is frankly ridiculous that Victor had worn a specific scent for this specific occasion, but Yuuri thinks beneath it all, taking into account all the separate times they’ve shared this kind of space together, there’s still something inherently Victor that’s there. Not really a smell, but still completely a feeling. Not necessarily expensive, but real good and warm. And light, the lightness is still there. A subtlety. It makes Yuuri feel light, almost uncomfortably so, but he shifts closer anyway. Neither of them move away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually posted this prompt a few weeks ago but as always i forget to upload onto ao3 whoops. and i mentioned it in the tags but my writing style has been changing a bit over these past few months and i feel like its especially evident in this update?? but anyway yea so here's the heads up that when kic comes back things may read a bit differently to you but hopefully in a positive direction~
> 
> thank u for reading and for sending these prompts btw!! im happy this au is so well-loved
> 
> ♥♥♥


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